


In All My Years

by NotALemon



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Ballet, Body Image, Boys Kissing, Burger King - Freeform, Coffee, Cute Kids, Dancing Lessons, Depression, Gay, Healing, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Unrequited Love, gay thoughts, hell dreams, praying, sinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: Connor has had many things happen in his life. Ballet lessons, rejection, and first loves.This is a look into eight different parts of his life.





	1. Five

Connor McKinley was five when he ran up to his mother, waving his chubby, freckled little arms around in the air wildly and yelling about dancing.

His mother bookmarked her place in the Book of Mormon before laying the copy down on the kitchen table. “I can’t hear what you’re saying, dear! Calm down,” she said, smile infecting her voice.

“Mommy! I wanna be a ballerina!”

The smile slid off Mrs. McKinley’s face. “What? Who gave you that idea?”

“Mary told me her mommy signed her up to be a ballerina.”

“Boys can’t be ballerinas,” she said.

The smile slid from Connor’s face the same way it did from his mother’s. “I can’t? But why not?”

“Because it’s a fact.”

“But- I really wanna be a ballerina!”

“Why?”

Connor teetered on his heels. “Because ballerinas are pretty an’ I wanna be pretty!”

“How about I talk to your father about it?”

“Really?!” Connor’s face lit up, freckles shining like stars. 

Mrs. McKinley smiled back at him. “Really.”

“Thanks, mommy!” Connor ran into the living room while his mother called his father’s name. 

“I’m not in trouble?” Mr. McKinley looked at his wife, raising an eyebrow at her wide smile and smiling back.

“No. Did you know Connor wants to be a ballerina?”

Mr. McKinley sat down next to her. “I did not.”

“He said he ‘wants to be pretty’ like a ballerina.” 

“You think he’ll become…?”

Mrs. McKinley shook her head. “He said Mary told him about it. Maybe he just likes her and wants to be in her ballet class to spend time with her?”

Connor’s chubby little face peeked out from the side of the doorway. He watched with his big blue eyes that didn’t have any of the bags or dark circles underneath them yet. 

“That’d make sense. It’ll pass, right? It’s just a phase.”

“Just a phase,” Mrs. McKinley agreed. “You can come out of the doorway, Connor! We’ve made a decision.”

Connor hid his hands behind his back and dragged his feet all the way to the table. He looked up at them.

“You can do ballet,” she said.

Connor squealed in joy. “Really?!”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t until Connor had been doing ballet for two weeks that his parents told their friends while their kids played.

“You’re not worried about him becoming… you know…?”

“We think he likes Mary,” Mrs. McKinley. 

Connor stopped listening at that point to continue his game of hide and seek, wondering why people thought he liked Mary.


	2. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor met Steve when he was seven.

Connor McKinley was seven when he invited the new boy with brown hair and eyes to sit next to him at lunch. He said his name was Steve Blade, and he asked why Connor was sitting alone.

“I dance ballet and people tease me,” Connor mumbled. He looked down at his tray, waiting for Steve to tease him like the others.

“Oh! That’s cool!”

Connor looked up from his tray. “Really?!”

“Yeah! I’ve never met a _boy_ ballerina before!”

“I thought you’d make fun of me like everyone else.” Connor beamed at Steve. “I like you! You’re nice.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “But we just met.”

“But you’re nice to me!”

“I guess?” Steve ate some of his green beans. 

Connor stared at Steve. 

“What’re you staring at?” Steve rubbed his hand over the bridge of his nose in case there was something on it. 

“Your hair! It matches your eyes!”

“Yeah. It’s boring.”

“What? No! It’s so pretty!”

Steve looked at Connor’s freckled nose. “No. It’s _boring_! Your hair’s like… a fire and your eyes are _blue_! I’m just _brown_.”

Connor’s face burned bright red. 

“And you have spots all over your face!”

“They’re called freckles.” Connor grinned shyly.

Steve smiled back at him, showing the huge gap between his front teeth. “Freckles.”

“Oh my gosh! Your teeth!”

“I know. I can spray chocolate milk out of the gap!” 

Connor gasped and his eyes widened. “Can you show me?!”

“Yeah!”

Mrs. McKinley wasn’t happy when she got a phone call from Connor’s school and had to explain that encouraging others to spew chocolate milk from the gap between their teeth “‘cause it’ll make a milk fountain” is not a good thing to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll probably be a chapter a day from now on.


	3. Ten-Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor started having Hell Dreams when he was ten.  
> He acted on them when he was eleven.

Connor McKinley was ten when he woke up one night after a dream about Steve wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him so close their noses were touching. He opened his eyes to see Steve sleeping right next to him, mouth open and soft snores pouring out.

He went back to sleep, waking up this time after dreaming Steve laced their fingers together and squeezed his hand lightly. This time, Steve was awake, watching him with his eyebrows raised.

“You said my name. What’re you dreaming about?”

Connor froze. He knew it was wrong to want to hold someone’s hand, because it was lust and lust was sin, and holding another boy’s hand was sin. But if he lied about it, he would be committing another sin. 

“You held my hand.”

Steve yawned. “That’s gay.”

“What?”

“Gay,” Steve said.

“What’s that?”

“It’s when a boy likes another boy.”

Connor blinked at him. “There’s a _word_ for that?” Their arms brushed together, and Connor felt like he was on fire.

“Yeah. The church doesn’t like gay people.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause there’s something in the Bible about it. Man shall not lay with another man or something.”

Connor closed his eyes again. “We _are_ laying together. So are _we_ gay?”

“No! Gay people kiss and stuff.”

“Oh.” Connor squeezed his eyes shut harder, trying to tune out Steve.

“It’s okay. _Everyone_ has gay thoughts once.”

Connor opened an eye to look at Steve and his perfect brown eyes and beautifully messy brown hair and the gap in his teeth while he spoke. “What do you do when you’re having gay thoughts?”

“You turn it off. It’s a Mormon trick.”

“How?”

“You just don’t feel them. You take the gay box in your brain and crush it!”

Connor closed his eyes again. “I’ll try that.”

“It always works.” 

The next time Connor had a dream about Steve, it was of him peppering small kisses along Connor’s pale neck. 

The time after that, Steve gently ran his hands through his hair and commented about how much better it looks when it’s messed up. 

Every time he and Steve touched, the skin burned. He wondered if Steve could feel it, and, if he could, did he blush as hard as Connor did? Curse him and his Irish skin!

“You sunburnt, Con?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m j-just sunburnt,” Connor squeaked.

His dreams kept getting worse until he had one about him and Steve on a deserted island and woke up in Steve’s bed, surrounded by Steve’s smell, and wrapped in Steve’s arms, and felt the uncontrollable urge to kiss him. 

He did.

It was an innocent little peck on the tip of his nose, but it woke Steve anyways.

“What’re you doing?”

“Nothing!” Connor’s face burned like the sun, and his lips tingled with the same fire.

“Did you just-?!”

Connor looked away. “What? What did I just do?!”

“Did you just _kiss me_?!”

“No! I wouldn’t- I’d never- Why would I- You’re not-”

Steve pushed on Connor’s chest. “Oh gosh! You _did_ kiss me!”

“I-”

“And then you lied!”

“I-”

Steve pushed him off the bed. “Why would you kiss me?! Are you a- Are you a _faggot_?”

Connor sat up and rubbed the side he landed on. “I’m not a- not a f-fa-” he swallowed hard. “I’m not a f-fa- _faggot_.”

“Then _why’d_ you _kiss me_?! That’s what a _faggot_ does!”

“Steve, please.” Connor’s eyes swam with tears. “I-I think I’m in l-” he took in a deep breath. “I think I’m-”

“ _Spit it out!_ ”

“Steve. I think I’m in l-love with you.”

Steve clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. “That’s _gay_ , Connor. You’re a _gay_ little _faggot_.”

Connor looked down at Steve’s clothes thrown haphazardly on the ground. “I didn’t think you were like _them_ ,” he mumbled. “You weren’t supposed to be _like them_!” He looked up, tears flowing down his face. “You’re Steve freaking _Blade_! You’re nice and don’t tease me about ballet and tap but- but you’re _just like them_!”

“That’s ‘cause you _kissed me in my sleep_ , Connor! Not while I could’ve said no- _in my sleep_! That’s _creepy_!” Steve loomed over him, shouting down at Connor. 

Connor wiped his tears away. “You weren’t supposed to wake up! You _ruined everything_ , Steve.”

“Oh, _I_ ruined everything. _I_ did! Not you, ‘cause you’re _Connor McKinley_ , and you’re _so great_! Newsflash, Connor: _faggots can’t be great_!”

“I wasn’t gay until I met you!”

“You’re in ballet. That’s the gayest thing ever!” 

Connor dropped his hands to his sides. “You thought it was cool. When we first met.”

“I’m not _seven_ anymore!”

“I love you, Steve!” Connor stood, so they were face-to-face, eyes level with each other. Connor’s were blue and red-rimmed; Steve’s were brown and full of a metaphorical red light.

“ _Faggot!_ ”

Connor reached out, skimming his fingertips over Steve’s cheek. Steve smacked his hand away with the loud sound of flesh hitting flesh.

“Steve!” Connor shrieked.

“Don’t touch me, _faggot_ ,” Steve hissed.

Someone knocked on Steve’s door. Connor froze.

“Steve,” he warned

Steve stared at him and opened the door.

“What’s going on?!” Mrs. Blade asked, her hair messier than Connor had ever seen it before.

“Connor kissed me!”

“C-Connor… did _what_?”

“He kissed me. In my sleep.”

Connor stood frozen in place. His tongue laid like stone in his mouth. 

Mrs. Blade called Connor’s father, who drove him home in the middle of the night in complete silence.

When he got home, he hung his head and stared at his threadbare pink converse. Pink because they were his favorite color, and converse because converse were cool.

His mother cried streams of tears that never ended while his father yelled about gays. 

Connor didn’t once look up.

He was promptly grounded from tv, the internet, and the landline, and told to pray long and hard before he went to bed.

So he asked Heavenly Father to fix him. He’d look back at himself- eleven years old at the time- and shake his head at his attempts to ask his Heavenly Father to fix him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's really short.


	4. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor found another thing to hate/love: his hips.

Connor McKinley was fourteen when he realized his hips jutted out like a girl’s.

He spent an entire hour in the bathroom looking at them. 

Hips, plump and attractive on a girl, with thick thighs and shoulders too broad for a girl and he wanted to crawl into a hole and die because he wasn’t supposed to look like this, darn it! He was supposed to look like his _father_ , have _manly_ hips that don’t jut out and not have a woman’s waistline that makes it _impossible_ to get clothes from the men’s section. 

He’d try to hide them at first. Big hoodies to cover his waist, jeans three sizes too long to hide his hips. They did nothing except accentuate how weird he looked. 

The problem is pink, he decided. Less pink would mean he’d look more like a man.

Except it didn’t.

Wearing less pink didn’t make him look any more like a man, just like how wearing baggy clothes didn’t make him look any more like a man. He just looked confused. Maybe that was the best way to look.

So he brought more pink (if that was even possible) and bold colors into his wardrobe, banishing the darker colors to the Goodwill bin, and he started wearing jeans that hugged his hips. Skinny jeans, he decided, were a blessing. 

He thought he looked cute.

Steve would’ve said his hips were cute or something.

But that didn’t matter anymore, because Steve abandoned him, and the entire school called him “Faggot”, and- after his wardrobe change- “Twink”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death is inevitable. Love doesn't last forever.  
> I need to sleep.


	5. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor was kissed by a girl in the alleyway behind a Burger King.

Connor McKinley was sixteen when he was kissing some girl whose perfume smelled bitter and whose lipstick burned bright red marks on him in an empty alleyway behind the Burger King. More accurately, he was getting kissed by some girl whose perfume smelled bitter and whose lipstick burned bright red marks on him in an empty alleyway behind the Burger King, because he wasn’t participating in any of the kissing himself.

She grinned up at him and dropped to her knees like she was going to pray. 

Connor flushed brighter than the lipstick marks on his face and neck. He knew he wasn’t- he wasn’t- _ready_ , at that moment, for what she was going to do.

And she could tell, after she unzipped his jeans and wasn’t greeted with the sight she was expecting. She scowled at him.

He shook his head, trying to slide off to the side while zipping up his jeans.

She yelled profanities and slurs at him while her heels clicked off through the alleyway.

He went into the Burger King bathroom to wash the lipstick off. 

A paper towel and warm water removed the fiery color. He checked his face like he did when he had to shave once in a blue moon, staring at the picture of someone he couldn’t recognize. Sure, he had the same freckles in the same places, and the same baby blue eyes, but his hair was too messy and his eyes had such deep purple circles underneath them and he was covered in faint lipstick stains that looked more like fresh bruises in the shitty light of the Burger King bathroom. 

He walked out anyways, scratching along his neck like it would make the lipstick bruises fade.

He drove home.

Neither of his parents paid him any attention.

He went to his room and studied.

His parents called him for dinner, but he said he had some Burger King.

He said a quick mental prayer asking for forgiveness for lying.

He crossed off another day in red on his calendar. 

Steve’s kisses wouldn’t have left marks.

He fell asleep, and was tormented by dreams of Steve and his parents hurting him in the fiery pits of Hell until he woke up with even darker circles under his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't posted lately. I'm really sick right now and it hurts to move.


	6. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor- or Elder McKinley, as he was now called- was nineteen when he went to Uganda on his mission.

Connor McKinley- or, more accurately, Elder McKinley- was nineteen when he went to Uganda for his mission trip with his companion, Elder Thomas, who insisted Connor call him “PopTarts”. 

So he did call Elder PopTarts Elder PopTarts, and Elder PopTarts called him Elder McKinley, and no one knew about his dirty little secret.

And Connor ended up in the shitty little house they were holed up in, stuck as the leader of a group who’d made zero baptisms in a place where he’d have to turn it off or _die painfully_ , but it was fine. 

“I’ll teach you how to tap dance,” he said. It didn’t take much convincing to get them to stick pennies onto the bottoms of their spare pairs of shoes to make a poor man’s tap shoes.

And yeah, all the elders might have terrible rhythm, but they were willing to learn, and Connor’s chest puffed out with almost-pride when he saw them do moves right. 

Sure, Elder PopTarts might have fallen on his face more than once when he tried to do something too advanced and yeah, Elder Zelder might have accidentally stepped on Elder Davis’ feet and okay, so Elder Church shouldn’t be near anything breakable (or Elder Michaels) and yes, Elders Neely and Schrader are in general uncoordinated, but they all worked so hard to do the complicated dances Connor showed them that he started to cry when they get through their first routine without messing up.

Connor’s crying made Elder Zelder trip over Elder Davis and they both stumbled until Davis pulled Zelder onto the ground with him and Elder PopTarts and Elder Church and Elder Michaels scrambled over to see if he’s okay, and Elder Neely made a squeaking noise that made Schrader laugh like a hyena.

“What’s wrong?!” PopTarts asked.

“I’m so proud- pardon my sinning- of you guys!” Connor pulled the three that ran up to him into a huge hug and beamed at them while pulling away.

And some of the more distant Elders (namely Davis and Zelder) slapped him on the arm while he gave all the others hugs.

After the small celebration, they went on with their routine- eat dinner, read the Book of Mormon, and then go to bed at curfew.

Connor didn’t know how he’d explain the little scars littering his thighs to Elder PopTarts, but it was unavoidable. He walked out of the bathroom and into the room he shared with Elder PopTarts, ready for scrutiny.

If Elder PopTarts had seen them, he didn’t mention it.

Connor climbed into his already too hot bed and did his best to get some sleep.

This time, all of the elders under his care joined Steve and his parents in torturing him.

Steve bit into his shoulder, letting blood drip down unrealistically. 

“Faggot,” he said.

Something shook him. He snapped his eyes open. He sat up, pushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes.

“Elder McKinley!”

“PopTarts?!”

“What’s wrong?”

Connor shook his head. “Hell dreams,” he mumbled. 

“Oh! That explains- why you were screaming.”

“I was screaming?”

“Like you were being killed.”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Elder.”

“It’s okay. I get Hell Dreams all the time.”

“Really?” Connor opened one eye, shyly.

“Yeah, like once a week.”

“Oh.” Connor looked down.

“Why? How many do you have?”

Connor looked off to the side. “Every night.”

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m used to them. Now, back to sleep? We have a busy day tomorrow!” Connor smiled weakly at PopTarts before laying back on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Elder Price joins the mission!  
> Hoo boy.


	7. Twenty (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor made sure that the newest members

Connor McKinley was twenty when he saw the newest missionaries. There were two of them, per usual, and they both had a light in their eyes that Connor both longed for and scoffed at. 

They did a little musical number they had rehearsed, and he finally pried open a lock on the heart-shaped cage in his chest to talk about Steve and the island dream and how much he wanted to touch-

Whoa! 

So he got a little carried away.

So all of the elders he was stuck with for another year knew what he was, who he was, and all of the disgusting parts of him he didn’t want to see.

So what?

He hugged all the elders tightly after the warm introduction. PopTarts started sobbing into his shoulder the second they hugged. 

“Elder PopTarts! What’s wrong?” 

“My sister-” PopTarts cut himself off and squeezed Connor harder. “I’m just overwhelmed!”

Connor patted his back. “It’s okay, Elder. You’ll be okay.”

PopTarts didn’t let go for a while. Connor patted his back, more out of obligation than anything else. The feeling of PopTart’s arms around his middle was almost completely foreign. The feeling of hands on him was foreign after all those years of seclusion. It was… nice. 

When PopTarts did let go, the taller new elder gave them a weird look. Connor put on this best District Leader smile and greeted the newest recruits properly.

The moment he looked into the taller new one’s eyes, he almost fell to his knees. Wow. Brown hair, brown eyes- he'd seen it before, and it might've worked again.

He mentally mumbled a prayer to Heavenly Father asking for the strength to deal with his emotions- whatever they may be- before he locked them securely into the gay box and pushing it into the back of his mind.

He looked at his clipboard to find out the man’s name was Kevin Price. 

Elder Price.

He made a mental note to stay away from Elder Price.

But his Hell Dreams had a different idea.

Elder Price stood there, tracing his fingers along Connor’s face in long lines that burned long after he removed them. 

“You’re sinning,” Elder Price said.

“I’ve always been sinning.”

Elder Price pulled him close in a way that made Connor think of how he hugged PopTarts earlier. His stomach churned. “I can tell.” He grinned, showing all of his sharpened teeth.

“Don’t give me hope.”

“No one likes faggots. You can die because of this.”

Connor blinked. “I know.”

Elder Price bit into his shoulder with his sharp teeth, dragging both blood and a blood-curdling scream from Connor. He removed his teeth, only to bite into the side of his neck. Thankfully, that part wasn’t covered in his temple garments, unlike his bleeding shoulder.

“Poor faggot.”

Connor whimpered. 

By the end, Connor’s shirt was stained from white to bright red, his lips were bleeding freely, and Steve had joined them. 

He still couldn’t look Steve in the eyes. 

Thank Heavenly Father that he had to wake up sometime.

Elder PopTarts gave him a weird look when he sat down at the breakfast table. Connor straightened his tie and brushed his hair out of his eyes. 

“Hello, elders!”

There were grumbles of morning greetings by the rest of the elders, who weren’t nearly as enthusiastic as he was- or the two new elders were.

He gave them all a pep talk that didn’t seem to work on anyone except for the two new ones. 

Connor looked at his clipboard to see that the other one- a short, chubby man with dark curls and thick glasses- was named Arnold Cunningham. 

Elder Cunningham.

He wasn't as handsome as Elder Price, but he was just as determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully tomorrow (if I don't have too much work to catch up on, that is) I'll have the last chapter up.


	8. Twenty (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's mission was terminated and all of his mission partners are being deported back to America.

Connor was also twenty when their mission was terminated and the entire district was deported back to the United States. He had packed up everything into his bright pink suitcase (how he’d gotten his parents to agree to get him a bright pink suitcase, he has yet to know) and he assured everyone that they’d publish The Book of Arnold eventually.

He gave out goodbye hugs to everyone except for one.

Elder Price.

Elder Price stood off to the side, looking completely miserable. 

“What’s wrong, Elder Price?”

“We’re not on our mission anymore. You can call me Kevin.”

“Kevin.” Connor tried the name out in his mouth. It fit like a retainer after not wearing it for too long. Uncomfortable and unusual. “You look down.”

“I don’t wanna go back.”

Connor paused and leaned on his heels. “Why not?”

Kevin shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. “Everything is so _different_ here. I don’t know if I can get used to life back in Salt Lake City.”

“I understand.”

“It’s too quiet here. If I go back to the city, I don’t know if I can get used to the _sound_.” Kevin stared into Connor’s eyes, and Connor had to hope his sunburn would cover his blush. “I’m living in sin, Elder McKinley.”

“I’ve been living in sin since fifth grade,” Connor said. 

Kevin’s eyes ducked down to his coffee cup. “I’ve heard.”

“Living in sin isn’t that bad, Kevin.”

“But the Hell Dreams-” Kevin cut himself off. He straightened his plain black tie. The simplicity made Connor’s blue striped tie (“It matches your eyes!” his mother had exclaimed when he picked it out) stand out even more.

“They’re not that bad.” Connor knew his words were weak, but he hoped that they were reassuring.

Kevin blinked at him and shook his head. “You’ve been dealing with them since you were ten. I’m sure mine aren’t nearly as bad as yours.”

“All Hell Dreams are different. Different people have different fears. The Hell Dreams could affect you differently than they affect me.”

“You were _ten_ ,” Kevin said. “I’m nineteen.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have horrible Hell Dreams.”

“I guess.” Kevin shrugged. 

“What have they been about?”

Kevin took a much longer drink of his coffee than before. “You’ve been having gay thoughts since fifth grade, right?”

“Yes. Are you having gay thoughts, Kevin?”

“I’ve heard it’s natural for people to have gay thoughts during their mission.”

Connor blinked. “I wouldn’t know. Are you having gay thoughts?”

“Yes.” 

“Would you like to talk about them?”

Kevin looked down at his black dress shoes. “You're not my District Leader anymore. You don't have to do this.”

Connor’s heart broke to pieces when he heard Kevin. “But I _like_ helping people! Especially you!”

Kevin looked back up at Connor. “But I don't know if I deserve it.”

And Connor couldn't help but wonder if _this_ was the same man who said _he_ was the next Joseph Smith and that _he_ was going to baptize all the people in that little village, because this wasn't the Elder Price he met the last time he had that plain suitcase next to him.

“ _Everyone_ deserves love!”

“I've just been a pain in everyone's butts this entire time.”

Connor drew himself to his full height (an unimpressive 5‘8) and straightened his shoulders. “I'm afraid I have to disagree with you, Kevin.”

“What?”

“You've been a delight most of the time. And yes, there were some times when you might've been a royal pain, but you brought _hope_ to District 9. We were a little low on morale, if I'm being honest.”

Kevin smiled shyly, and _Heavenly Father_ , when had anything Elder Price did become _shy_? Connor shook his head.

“You don't have to lie to me.”

Lie?!

“Lie?!” Connor spat out. “I am a man of _God_! Lying is _sin_ , Kevin!”

“I know!” Kevin sounded rushed. “I'm sorry for making it sound like you were sinning- I didn't mean to make you think I would ever doubt you.”

“No, it's fine.” Connor straightened his tie. “About your gay thoughts-”

“We don't have to talk about that.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“I- I don't think I'm really _gay_.”

“It's perfectly fine to have gay thoughts at least once in your life,” Connor said.

“I know it's fine. I just don't think I'm gay because I might like girls too?”

Connor blinked. “I've heard about that before. Some people are like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You're not _alone_ , Kevin. There are always more people like us out there. Maybe not _Mormons_ , but other people who like boys and- sometimes, girls. You should do some exploring! You're still _young_.”

“What're _you_ going to do when you're home?”

Connor looked down at his suitcase. “Move out. My parents- they don't approve of ‘people like me’.” He used finger quotes on his free hand. “So I've decided it'd be in my best interests to move out. Probably to New York city. They're okay with ‘people like me’ there.”

“Are they the ones who told you to turn it off?”

Connor froze. The atmosphere froze. “No. That- That was Steve.”

“Oh.”

Silence filled the air.

“I'm-”

“Don't say you're sorry. I know it's horrible, but I'm over it now. I'm more interested in someone else at the moment.”

Connor could've sworn he saw Kevin's face fall. “Really? That's... great!”

“Yeah. Pardon if I sound rude, but I have a feeling you're avoiding talking about your gay thoughts.”

Kevin took another long drink of his coffee. “Well, I wouldn't say-”

“ _Kevin_ ,” Connor said in his best District Leader voice.

“I am. But it's not that I don't trust you! It's just that- my gay thoughts are about-” Kevin looked off to the side, “- _you_.”

Connor had to take in a deep breath before doing anything. “Is that true?”

“Um. Yes.”

“In that case…” Connor sat down his suitcase to find a pen. When he did, he stood up straight with it between his first and middle fingers. “Can I have your coffee cup?”

Kevin handed it over silently. Connor’s fingers bumped against it and made a hollow noise. He wrote something he hadn't thought about for a while onto the plastic of the cup and wrote his name (in legible cursive, including the heart over the “i” in his last name) under it before giving the cup back.

“You can text or call or do whatever you want.”

“Are- Are you _sure_?”

Connor smiled confidently at him. “I'm _very sure_ of this,” he said.

“I'll call,” Kevin said. “I'm pretty sure I'll need a place to live, and rent in New York is supposed to be a lot.”

“I wouldn't object to that.”

Kevin smiled at him. It wasn't the fake Elder Price smile, but it wasn't the _shy_ little thing he'd tried on earlier. It was _real_ , and _confident_ , and Connor thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I’d love to,” he said. 

Connor got on his plane with a huge grin. Maybe things were finally looking up for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, this is the end. I've been meaning to reply to the comments, which I'll get to! Eventually...  
> I left this open-ended because, well, I'm not sure how else I could end it. But I think I like it like this.

**Author's Note:**

> I did this for my creative writing class.  
> No regrets.


End file.
